


Best Laid Plans

by Araine



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Arranged Marriage, Episode 59, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-26
Updated: 2016-07-26
Packaged: 2018-07-26 20:33:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7589083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Araine/pseuds/Araine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Vex and Vax fled Syngorn to escape a marriage arranged for the female twin, only to discover upon their return that fate can turn out very strangely.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Best Laid Plans

**Author's Note:**

> jouleys on tumblr made a post about what if Vex hates Syngorn so much because they planned to marry her off to Percy, so I ran with it.

“What did father want?” Vax asks when he hears the door to their chambers click open. He’s sitting sideways on the chair, draped casually so as not to betray that he’s been waiting up to hear the details of his sister’s private meeting with their father. It takes a second to extricate his lanky form from the intricate furniture. 

Vax freezes at the sight of Vex. 

She’s pale and– _shaking._ Privately, Vax has always thought of Vex as the unbreakable twin. She could face anything with a smile on her face. Whatever this is has her eyes wild, her lips pressed together in a thin line. 

Vax drops all pretense. He goes to his sister, enfolds both her hands in one of his. Tilts her chin up with the other. Vex’s pupils widen, then contract on his face. “Vex? Stubby? What is it? Talk to me.” 

“Don’t call me that.” She hates the new nickname, which Vax has been using ever since he gained three inches on her, but she doesn’t pull her hand from his. “Father wanted to discuss marriage with me. Something about a trade agreement. Vax they want to– they want to marry me off.” 

Vax isn’t sure he’s heard right. “What?” he demands. It hardly makes sense. There are plenty of elven nobles of marriageable age of much more respectable bloodline. They are the physical representation of Syldor’s shame– what respectable elf would deign to marry them? “To who?”

“I don’t know, I wasn’t listening,” Vex says. Vax can hear the tears breaking through her voice. “Some human– a human noble from up north. Father brokered the alliance. They’ve got some kind of stone that Syngorn wants to magically protect the city, and father put my name forward.” 

“A human?” Vax asks, brushing away tears that haven’t yet begun to fall. Vex places her hand over his, stilling it on her cheek. 

“Yes, a human. Apparently the thought was that we already have sullied bloodlines, so the marriage would be acceptable.” Vex laughs, but it’s a hollow thing, bitter and disappointed. “I guess we're good enough for that at least.”

“Well,” Vax says, already planning. If he's quiet enough he can nick food from the kitchens, maybe enough to last them a week. “I’m not gonna let that happen. I promise you.” Even if it takes the last breath in his body, he’s not going to let Vex go off on her own to marry some stranger. And he’s been thinking for some time about leaving Syngorn behind. They don’t need it anymore, either one. 

Vex folds her brother into a tight embrace. “Thank you,” she whispers into his hair. 

Decision made, they slip out that night under cover of darkness. 

–

For years, Vex doesn’t think about the marriage that almost was. If she mentions it at all, it’s a passing thought. A bogeyman brought up at campfires to tease her brother. 

“I wonder what he’d have been like,” she says. “Probably pompous and covered in hair.”

“And warts,” Vax supplies, the second line to the ritual. “Can’t forget those. Lady Vex’ahlia and Lord Warty.”

“At least I’d have more money than you,” Vex sing-songs at him. 

“You already have more money than me you miser.” 

It’s the most thought Vex gives to her once-betrothed, until they find themselves in the Fey Wild on the outskirts of Syngorn. 

–

There is _no way_ father can reasonably expect her to honor a ten year old contract, Vex thinks as she waits in Syldor’s study for his appearance. If she had been betrothed to an elf, perhaps. Contracts of marriage move slowly in their world, but ten years is long enough in human politics that whatever Syldor wanted from the marriage, he probably got years ago through other means. 

That doesn’t stop the memories of the last time she was in this exact study. It hasn’t changed in the slightest. 

She escaped last time with Vax, and he is here with her still, scowling with his arms crossed. Percy has agreed to stay by her side. The rest of Vox Machina is here, and they’ve faced down way worse than Syldor Vessar. Her hand still trembles, until she stills it on the arm of her chair.

The door to the study opens, and Vex looks into the face of her father for the first time in over a year. 

“Vex’ahlia,” he says, greeting them with none of the warmth expected of family. “Vax’ildan.”

Vax steps forward, still not uncrossing his arms. “Hello father.”

“And your band of companions,” Syldor says, looking them over with one eyebrow raised. “How delightful– if unexpected– to see you again.” 

Syldor doesn’t sound like he’s ever been delighted by anything in his long life, but Vex smiles perversely anyways. “Yes, father. I believe you’ve met everyone.” She points around at the group, rubbing her father’s face in her disreputable looking companions. “Grog. Scanlan. Pike, here incorporeally by the grace of Sarenrae. Keyleth. And of course Percy, who you’ll like father, he’s a _lord_.” 

Percy, who has been waiting for her lead, steps forward with his hand outstretched. “Percival Fredrickstein Von Musel Klossowski de Rolo III, at your service sir.” 

“Just call him Percy,” Keyleth says. “We all do.” 

Syldor steps forward, takes Percy’s hand. “You didn’t advertise your bloodline last time we met,” he says. “Well met, Lord de Rolo.” 

Vex grins slyly at Percy, who only nods minutely back. Titles were always enough to impress father, especially among humans, whose bloodlines he is required by position to respect. 

“The last time we met I hadn’t a bloodline to speak of,” Percy says smoothly. “The de Rolos have only just recently retaken our ancestral home of Whitestone.” 

“Whitestone, you say?” Syldor asks, looking sidelong at Percy. Vex half expects him to launch into some diplomatic pitch. Her father is nothing if not consummately good at his job. “Then fate does move in mysterious ways.” 

Vex frowns, and looks to her brother. He shoots back an equally confused look. 

“I met your father, you know,” Syldor continues. “Lord Frederick de Rolo.” Under his silk coat and aristocratic demeanor, Percy tenses. “We arranged to purchase some of the stone quarried at Whitestone in the defense of Syngorn. There were plans for the possibility of more, but then all stone trade was cut off.” 

“Yes,” Percy says absently, “that would be about when the Briarwoods took Whitestone and cut off trade…”

Syldor’s mouth twists into a wistful half-smile. “I believe you almost had the hand of my daughter.” He glances, briefly, at Vex. 

And Vex feels the entire world drop out from under her.

“I– I’m sorry,” she hears Percy say from somewhere far away. “I must have misheard. Are you saying that I was betrothed to– to Vex’ahlia?” 

“Congratulations,” Scanlan chimes in. 

“If I have my bloodlines correct, yes,” Syldor says. “The arrangement was for the second eligible son. It’s been ten years, forgive me– even elven memory may be incorrect after such a period.” 

It’s Vax’s hand on her shoulder, his look of concern in her eyes, that brings Vex back to reality. She looks wildly over at Percy, willing him to contradict this lunacy.

“You haven’t got them incorrect, no,” Percy says. “That was me. I’m sorry, I was unaware that such an arrangement had even been made.” He scratches behind his head, brows furrowed, the well-bred facade cracked by confusion. 

“Having come so recently back into your title, I am not surprised,” Syldor says. “However, to my knowledge, the contract is still valid. If, after all the terrible business on the material plane is completed, you would wish to resume relations between Whitestone and Syngorn– you are clearly of a temperament.” He spreads his hands, an open invitation to take Vex in marriage. 

Vax steps forward, that little twitch in his eyebrow spelling serious danger. Probably for their father, but possibly for Percy as well. “I’m sorry, father– excuse me– it’s been a very long journey, here, in the Fey Wild. Could we perhaps have some time to sit and– and collect ourselves? This is big news.” He's slightly breathy, as if he's just been punched in the gut. Maybe he has, Vex thinks. 

For a moment Syldor looks vexed, and then he spreads his hands wide. “Of course,” he says. “My home is yours, Vax’ildan, Vex’ahlia, for as long as you would have need of it.” 

And he gestures to a servant to take them to a private garden and bring them refreshment. 

–

It’s only once they’re safely alone that anyone speaks. 

“You,” Vax says, rounding on Percy, pressing one finger against the noble’s chest. “You’re engaged? To my _sister_?” 

“Apparently so,” Percy says. He’s so pale he looks almost sick. 

“So,” Grog says. “Are you two gettin’– gettin’ married then, because of what old stick-up-his-arse says?”

“No,” Vax says, vehement

“Of course not,” Percy says, a beat behind. “Not unless– well–”

“Over my dead body,” Vax grumbles. 

It’s Keyleth who speaks up. “It might not… it might not be a bad idea,” she says, with an apologetic glance at Vax, who glares daggers at her. “We need Syldor’s help. It might not be a bad idea to humor him while we’re here.” 

“He is a very powerful elf lord who can help or hinder us as he pleases,” Scanlan says, with a pointed look at Vax. “And Syngorn has an army. We're sort of in need of armies right now.”

“So, what? We marry off my sister to appease him? To get Syngorn's army?” Vax demands. “That’s a stupid– stupid plan.” 

“Yeah but, to Percy,” Grog says. He looks first at Percy, then at Vex. “I mean, I thought you two were knockin’ boots already, so I don’t see a problem.” 

Vax violently starts, as if he means to go for Percy’s throat with his knives. 

Percy flushes all the way to his elegantly tied cravat. Vex clears her throat. “Grog, we’re not–” and her voice catches over the words, because she can’t deny some level of affection for Percival, nor some level of attraction, but there’s never been any movement from either of them. “We’re not knocking boots Grog.” 

“Oh, really?” Grog asks. “Are you sure?” 

Vex nods. Pike nudges Grog, and he reaches into his coin purse and hands the gnome a gold coin. She takes it with a smug grin, until it falls through her incorporeal fingers. Grog bends down to pick it up.

“Sorry, Pike, I’ll give that to you later,” Grog says. 

“It’s okay,” Pike says, still grinning. 

“I’m sorry,” Percy interjects, “am I to believe that you were– betting on my sex life?” 

“You and Vex, yeah,” Scanlan says, without trace of shame. He holds out a hand. “By the way, Keyleth, pay up.” 

The druid winces. “Dammit, I was hoping you wouldn’t mention that.” 

Vax looks over at them, pursing his lips, torn. “We will– talk about that later. For now. Percival–”

“Keyleth’s right,” Percy says, in the way he presents all of his ideas that he thinks they’re going to hate. “There is some benefit in humoring Syldor, at least while we’re here. I’m not saying that I should go so far as to marry Vex’ahlia, of course, but if he is after trade in Whitestone we could perhaps work out a favorable arrangement for all parties. No arrangement is permanent until the paperwork is signed, until then it's all... hypothetical.”

Vax looks a pained glance over at Vex. “What do you think, Vex’ahlia?” he asks, his eyes matching hers. “This engagement– it’s why we left Syngorn in the first place. I know you never wanted any part in it. We can get Syngorn's army without this, I know we can. We don't have to play by his rules anymore.” 

Vex’s heart warms, a little, for her brother who would walk the most difficult path just for her sake. But this time, she finds, she doesn’t quite mind. She turns to Percy, rakes him over her most lascivious gaze. “Well,” she says, as if she’s appraising a bargain for haggling. “He’s not warty, I suppose. Why not humor father while we’re here?” 

Vax stares, open-mouthed. Percy is perhaps too well bred to let his mouth hang open, but he’s blinking like something nasty just exploded on him in his workshop. Keyleth is grinning with barely disguised glee, and Pike isn’t far behind. Even Grog is looking a bit jovial. Scanlan is glancing to Vax, who is only slowly gathering his wits. 

“You’re sure?” Vax asks, at last. 

“Yeah,” Vex says, sounding more confident than the fluttering in her stomach makes her feel. “Let’s string father along for a lark, why don’t we? Maybe we can get some help in the Fey Wild while we're at it.” 

“That’s– not a bad point, actually,” Percy says, with an appreciative glance at Vex that sends a shiver up her spine. 

“Good,” Vax says, sounding like he’s just run up a very steep precipice. “Good, we’re doing this. Then, Percival, I am obligated to do this.” 

He turns, lightning fast, and jabs Percy in the nose with his fist. Percy reels back from the impact, blinking, eyes unfocused for a moment. “Ow,” he says, and gingerly presses his fingers against his nose.

“I am going to my room,” Vax declares, and he turns on his heel and leaves. Vex watches him for five steps before rushing over to Percy, who is still swaying and pressing his fingers to his nose. 

“Percy, dear, are you alright?” she asks. “That looked like it hurt. Did it hurt?” 

Percy straightens up, looks woozily at Vex. “Yes,” he says. “Yes, I’m fine.” The spot of blood on his glove betrays him, and he grins half-cocked at Vex. “Well, would you look at that? That hurt more than the last time.” 

Vex frowns. “When did it happen before?” 

“Unimportant,” Percy says. “Did you realize we are apparently engaged to be married?” 

Vex smiles. When Percy says it like that– it doesn’t sound nearly so awful as she thought it might. “Yes, dear, I had rather noticed that.”


End file.
